


A faint light between the stars

by skullage



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullage/pseuds/skullage
Summary: "Yes," Minho says.





	

The song keeps playing on a loop and even as they’re kissing Seungyoon makes a joke about diegetic music that goes over Minho’s head, keeps pressing his mouth to Minho’s, pulling back and laughing, laughing and pulling back. They haven’t even been drinking, but maybe that would make it easier for Minho to deal with Seungyoon not taking this seriously. He wants Seungyoon to climb into his lap in this stupid, ergonomic leather desk chair instead of just kissing him standing up, leaning over him, hands curled around his ears like Minho is too precious to handle properly. He wants Seungyoon’s passion and force and energy sighing into his mouth, contorting his body, wants Seungyoon to pull him down onto the floor and pin him down and straddle him, but Seungyoon won’t. When he pulls back again, his smile is seraphic.

Seungyoon’s said before he thinks Minho’s cute when he gets like this, Seungyoon’s eyes shaped like crescent moons and his nose scrunched up at Minho’s frown and the line between his eyebrows. _Cute._

“Come on,” Seungyoon says, his hands now tugging at Minho’s hair as if to placate him. He’s so beautiful up close that it hurts Minho to look at him, sometimes. At these times he has to look away, like he does now. “Don’t be like that.”

“Please be serious,” Minho says, and it’s not what he intended to come out of his mouth at all, not how he intended it to come out, either. Seungyoon leans down to kiss him again and Minho is weak to it, has always been weak for Seungyoon in ways he, with all his literary prowess, can’t describe. His fingers flex on Seungyoon’s hips, dipping beneath the waistband of his sweat pants to feel his heated skin, fresh from the shower he took just before he came in to find Minho working on a song, because he knew that’s where Minho would be, just before he started baiting Minho and then kissed him like it’s his favorite game. 

But Minho eventually pushes him off, waiting for something. For Seungyoon to admit it’s not a joke, maybe. For Seungyoon to look at him like Minho makes him feel the way he makes Minho feel. Anything, at this point, after years of friendship and Minho hiding behind the excuse of skinship and the camera to cover the way he looks at Seungyoon like Seungyoon is the sun, he’s seen himself on video, he knows. But Seungyoon doesn’t do those things. He looks puzzled, like, isn’t this what you want? Didn’t you start this? Aren’t I the person you want so badly? And it’s all Minho can do not to push him harder. Yes. Yes. Obviously. 

Seungyoon doesn’t say anything else. He takes a step backwards and it’s decided. Minho gets up from his chair, leaving the song unfinished and computer on, and walks out on him.

 

 

 

 

They don’t talk about it. If Minho had the sense or the inclination to jump into the pit of his own feelings and examine them, he might have talked to Seungyoon, might have done something more than stare down the hole and whistle at the long drop, but he doesn’t and that suits him fine. Let Seungyoon think what he wants. Let Seungyoon sit next to him on the couch when he’s watching tv, late at night because he can’t sleep, and probably Seungyoon can’t either and he always needs physical contact, which is why he’s rubbing his eyes and yawning and why his leg is pressed against Minho’s. Minho keeps flicking through tv stations, not looking for anything to watch but hoping Seungyoon will get tired of him and leave, because Minho is annoyed, he’s pissed, even more so that Seungyoon doesn’t seem to get how pissed he is. 

But Seungyoon doesn’t leave. He stays on the couch, and his leg stays pressed against Minho’s, until he falls asleep like that, head lolling forward onto his chest, arms crossed over a pillow in his lap. Minho doesn’t want Seungyoon to be cold so he grabs a blanket, but he’s still pissed so he just drops it on him instead of covering all of him with it, his own petty revenge that feels stupid even as he’s doing it. 

That’s how he feels now about a lot of things: stupid. Seungyoon toying with him, his reactions to Seungyoon, his own feelings. It’s not as easy being around Seungyoon now, and he’s thankful they don’t have any schedules together and he doesn’t have to force that interaction. The promotions for Really Really and Fool have died down and they have no pressure to be themselves in front of a camera, so Minho spends his days how he usually does: writing songs, hanging out with Jihoon, losing track of whatever variety he’s filming on whatever day. Thinking about Seungyoon. It kind of blurs. But Seungyoon is always there, if not in person then at least in the back of Minho’s mind.

 

 

 

 

It happens again, as Minho feared it would. He also feared it wouldn’t, and he didn’t know which one was more terrifying to think about. Seungyoon corners him while he’s getting changed and Minho can’t help the instinct to cover himself with his shirt, which is stupid (still, again) because Seungyoon has seen him half-naked before, the camera has probably seen worse, and it’s not like they ever kept any secrets, anyway. They’ve all walked in on each other jerking it. It happens. But Seungyoon doesn’t let Minho’s embarrassment get in the way of him pushing Minho up against the bedpost and kissing him again, forceful enough that Minho melts into it. Yes. 

Seungyoon’s fingers encircle Minho’s wrist and the other hand clutches his shoulder and it’s like what he imagines being caught in a hurricane is like, dangerous and frightening and overwhelming and addictive. He kisses back, tentatively at first, more forcefully at Seungyoon’s urging when he turns it dirty, licking at the seam of Minho’s lips, sucking Minho’s bottom lip into his mouth. 

“Wait,” Minho says, because he’s an idiot, because he’s scared. “Is this what you want?”

Seungyoon’s eyes peer at him through the curtain of his bangs, placid, placating, not like Minho’s asking a dumb question, but like he’s asking one worthy of consideration. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

“But--” Minho starts, and Seungyoon cuts him off.

“Of course I want it, _babo_.” 

Seungyoon kisses Minho’s worries away, or at least suppresses them, and, for the time being, Minho lets it go, and sinks into the kiss.

 

 

 

 

Minho doesn’t like being this way. This overwhelming affection he feels, that has defined their friendship for years, is immense and challenging enough without the added bonus of feeling as if Seungyoon is about to pull the carpet out from underneath him at any moment. It’s a maddening exercise, going from turned on as Seungyoon’s mouth and hands explore his body, to anxious when Seungyoon gets back in his own bunk, staring at the wood dividing them, touching himself in the places Seungyoon kisses. 

They’re spending too much time together, Minho decides. He’s becoming obsessed with the way Seungyoon glances at him across the table, his eyes lighting up, his socked feet reaching out to brush against Minho’s calf. Minho wants to reach across the table and drag him in for a kiss, wants to crawl under the table and suck him off until Seungyoon’s calling out his name, pulling at his hair, coming into his mouth. He doesn’t do those things, and that’s just as maddening.

Jihoon and Hyuntae offer nothing in the way of help. Jihoon’s shrug and Hyuntae’s laugh in his face when he tells them how hard he’s falling for Seungyoon, how he doesn’t know what to do about it, how Seungyoon probably doesn’t feel as deeply for Minho as Minho does for him and it’s eating him up inside, are even more useless than Minho’s own thoughts. 

“Take a break,” Jihoon offers. “Get some space.”

“Yeah, you need to chill the fuck out,” Hyuntae says. 

So that’s what Minho does. Jihoon’s finished filming all his varieties and Hyuntae’s on permanent break so they go together. Fuck it. A week in Hawaii. The beaches are gorgeous and so are the people, and Minho updates his Instagram but doesn’t message Seungyoon in that entire time, because Seungyoon doesn’t message him at all.

 

 

 

 

When he gets back to the dorm no one’s home, and it’s nice, having some time to himself, but he’s so used to being around people all the time that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He plays Seungyoon’s guitar, eats two packets of ramen, tries to find a sweatshirt he thought he lost a year ago that ends up in Seungyoon’s bunk, with Seungyoon’s smell, not Minho’s. He lies in bed with it scrunched up in his hand, breathing in the scent of Seungyoon, his hand reaching inside his boxers to grasp his half-hard cock, stroking roughly, nothing to slick the way as he imagines Seungyoon’s mouth on him again, but lower this time, kissing him down there, sinking onto Minho’s cock, putting those lips to use. When he comes he muffles his cry into the sweatshirt and spills his release into his hand and boxers, having not bothered to take his cock out. 

He jumps when he feels the bed dip and Seungyoon crawl over him, on his hands and knees above Minho, his expression serious as he says, “I missed you,” and “Don’t do that to me again, shithead,” kissing Minho after like his life is at risk, straddling him, holding him down. 

 

 

 

 

Something changes after that. Seungyoon seemed to miss him enough that he starts to kiss Minho whenever he wants, sits in his lap when he’s watching tv and he wants Minho’s attention, comes up behind him when he’s making lunch in the kitchen just to put his arms around Minho’s waist and rest his forehead between Minho’s shoulder blades. It’s a reminder to Minho that yes, Seungyoon does want him, and yes, just maybe, he feels the same way Minho does. They spend time going through all of Minho’s Hawaii photos, Seungyoon listening intently as Minho describes the place, the people, the food. He’s not doing a good job but Seungyoon seems rapt anyway, points out Hyuntae and Jihoon’s ridiculous expression while Minho tried to act cool, knowing Seungyoon would see these pictures. The need to impress him hasn’t gone away, it’s only grown stronger, and even now, Seungyoon leaning on his shoulder and turning his head to laugh into Minho’s skin, Minho feels a rush that Seungyoon is laughing because of him. He turns to kiss Seungyoon because he can’t help himself, and because it’s a rush, too, getting to do that whenever he wants, feeling Seungyoon sigh into his mouth, his hand come up to run through Minho’s hair and tug him closer by the ends. Minho goes easily, pulled where Seungyoon wants him, climbing into Seungyoon’s lap to kiss him as forcefully as he kisses Minho.

“I thought it might be you,” Seungyoon says, kissing Minho’s face, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids. “It was always going to be you.”

“Yes,” Minho says.

 

 

 

 

It’s a kissing his belly in the parking lot of a doctor’s office kind of love. It’s a distressed jeans with holes big enough to put your head through kind of love. It’s an early morning lying in bed with their faces mushed into pillows that smell like them kind of love. It’s a three am watching music videos when they have to be awake in an hour kind of love. It’s a finishing the last of Seungyoon’s coffee instead of him pouring it down the sink kind of love. It’s Minho’s heart pounding when he opens the door, and then quieting when he sees Seungyoon splayed out on the couch, not waiting for him but there all the same kind of love.

...and Minho’s deep in it.

**Author's Note:**

> "and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes." - James Joyce
> 
>  
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>  
> 
> im still on [twitter](http://twitter.com/skvllage)


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